


Drabble Time!

by tiamatv



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble Collection, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:08:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24645439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiamatv/pseuds/tiamatv
Summary: Collection of little drabbles - mostly gen, almost all silly.1) PB emoji drabble #1: Dean/Cas: Dean's just done with the nerds2) PB emoji drabble #2: Dean/Cas: Dean loves the Impala3) PB emoji drabble #3: Gen: Cas is, eternally and ridiculously, himself4) PB emoji drabble #4: Gen: TFW 2.0 has Opinions on coffee5) Request drabble #1: Gen: Cas, Crowley, caterpillar
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 22
Kudos: 49





	1. PB Emoji Drabble #1

**Author's Note:**

> Tags and ratings and such to be updated as necessary! I cannot figure out how to get the actual emojis themselves in for the emoji prompt drabbles, but I've tried my best to summarize...
> 
> I am also happy to take drabble requests at any time. :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaz's emoji prompts: /Unicorn head on man's body/Cas smoking/"The Truth"/Dean blowing a kiss/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one didn't get posted into Storytime because I didn't realize I was supposed to claim it if I wasn't typing directly into Discord! Whoops. It's silly anyway, and I totally cheated with the hard part of the prompt...

“You’re making that up,” Dean told them, flatly. “Or you’re high, Cas. That is, flat-out, some kind of a pot-smoke dream. An _awful_ pot-smoke dream.”

“That’s called a bad trip,” Sam offered.

What? Okay. Dean was not touching that. Sam had clearly learned some shit at school.

“I’m not.” Cas looked offended. “Also, angels cannot get ‘ _high_.’”

“Why not? You can get drunk,” Sam pointed out.

All three of them considered that.

“But anyway. Dean, Cas is right?” Sam went on, in his ‘so get this’ voice. “There really _is_ a monster called a _tikbalang_ that has the body of a man and the head of a horse. Or at least, that’s what Filipino lore says.”

Cas, primly, held out a hand.

“Sonofabitch. Why the fuck do I live with nerds?” Dean sighed, and passed over the ten dollar bill.

Cas looked pleased and smug as he admired the money he was holding between his fingers.

Or at least, he looked smug until Dean reeled him in and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“What was that for?” Cas asked, shyly.

“For bein’ a nerd,” Dean answered, grinning.

“Well, _I_ don’t want one,” Sam muttered.

~fin~


	2. PB Emoji Drabble #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crypto's emoji prompts: /Dean biting his lip/Cas with a puzzled expression/The Impala/

Everyone knew that Dean loved his car. This was just a fact. Any scratch on the Impala sent blood rushing right to his head.

Anything pretty located right near his Baby, though? Well, that was guaranteed to send the blood rushing somewhere else.

That really wasn’t what Dean was thinking of when he stomped down the bunker’s stairs to the garage, tool kit in hand and scrub brush in the other. Fucking _storms,_ man. There was gonna be grit in the wheel wells, and the hail had left a dent somewhere, he was sure of it. It was gonna take elbow grease and hard work to get his Baby back into shining order—

Cas, standing by the driver’s side door, was wearing jeans, and one of Dean’s t-shirts. He was holding a bucket in one hand, and a sponge in the other. There was a splash of soap down one of his cheeks, and a line of it sliding down his bare forearm. Even as Dean watched, a drip of froth trailed off Cas’s fingertips.

“Hello, Dean,” he murmured.

Yep. That blood was going elsewhere for _sure_.

~fin~


	3. PB Emoji Drabble #3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Banshee's emoji prompts: /little bird/Cas in sunglasses/Dean with sweatdrop/Sam cackling/

“Okay. Seriously. Why do you even need sunglasses?” Dean demanded. “You are an angel of the fucking Lord. Pretty sure your job is to burn out _other_ people’s eyes.”

Cas peered at him over the top of them. “Sam has said they make a good disguise.”

Dean looked Cas up, and he looked him down. Black suit. Blue striped tie. White button-down. Goddamned _trench coat_.

And sunglasses.

“Uh-huh,” Dean muttered.

Sam, behind Dean, made a noise halfway between a snort and a snicker, squashed in one big Sasquatch fist. Cas didn’t seem to hear him. Dean definitely did.

“Yeah, no,” Dean insisted. “Look, you… just no.”

Sam’s snickers escalated. This time, Cas let out a small, annoyed hmph.

Dean was pretty sure that Cas meant that to be angelic, or haughty, or… something. It might’ve even done that if a small red bird hadn’t landed right in the middle of the fluff of his hair and perched there, cheeping. Cas’s glare softened, and he reached up to scratch at its head with one finger.

“Oh, yeah, Cinderella,” Dean muttered. “ _Great_ disguise.”

~fin~


	4. PB Emoji Drabble #4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kay's emoji prompt: Dean, Sam, Cas and Jack all drinking from coffee cups

Dean drank his coffee black. He always had. It really didn’t matter how bad it was—years of Gas’n’Sip and motel coffee had given him a peculiar kind of tolerance. (Or maybe it was numbness. Lisa had, once, left a mug out on the kitchen countertop, warmed in the sun. He’d thought it tasted a little strange, but whatever, it wasn’t the worst he’d ever had. It was only after she came running at him that he found out it had been sitting there _two days_.)

Sam had developed the world’s fucking worst coffee habits at Stanford. Like, the _worst_. Dean was pretty sure his little brother had more coffee paraphernalia than most stoners had bongs. Phin filters. Scales that weighed things by grams. Chemex… somethings. It looked like something that belonged to the Men of Letters. And why the Hell would _anyone_ add fucking raw egg to their coffee, _why?_ Even if it had been whipped up with some fancy beater thing.

Cas, well, him and his molecules. He still drank coffee—which was weird, because drinking most other things kind of grossed him out. Not that Dean would ever admit to anyone that Cas’s grossed-out face was pretty damned hilarious, because Cas _could_ smite people again, but it really was. It _was_ a little creepy that Cas sometimes made comments about the farmers who’d grown the coffee, the level of rainfall at that time of the year, or, occasionally, the household’s pet cat (uh, okay, why? No, actually, Dean didn’t really want to know.)

Jack took a careful, thoughtful, measured sip of his coffee and immediately spit it out.

“Why would anyone drink that?” he demanded, scrubbing at his mouth with a sleeve. “ _Why?_ ”

“Yeah…” Dean reached out and patted Jack on the top of the head. Jack squinted at him, looking so fucking adorably like, well, _Cas_ , that he had to bite down a smile. “You’ve got some growing up to do, kid.”

~fin~


	5. Request Drabble #1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emi's request: Cas, Crowley, caterpillar

Crowley could not claim that he’d bothered to actually _converse_ with many halos in his time. But he was reasonably sure that even for angels, Castiel was… strange. At first, he had wondered if it was through association with the Winchesters, but the Winchesters were, as a rule, amusing, and only the sort of strange insofar as they were the sort of humans who tended to stab first and ask questions later, and angst so _beautifully_ when they had to ask their questions.

The Winchesters were also not, as far as he was aware, prone to commenting, “Just a moment,” and picking up caterpillars off the sidewalk.

Crowley was curious about this for about… no, he wasn’t actually curious. “We have _things_ to do, Feathers.”

Castiel didn’t answer.

“I have seen you stab people. Smite beings of any and all varieties. You are the only angel who’s ever rebelled against Heaven, survived, and then was stupid enough to _go back_ ,” he pronounced. “Are you having your nervous breakdown about it _now?_ This seems belated."

Castiel didn’t look up from watching the small, fat green caterpillar inch its way across the back of his hand, a small smile curling around the absurdly pink lips of his vessel.

“You _betrayed me_.” Crowley didn’t say this with any sense of offense, though. If Castiel had been _bad_ at it he’d have been offended, but being betrayed by Heaven’s Fluffiest Fallen and having him do it _well,_ now, Crowley was almost proud.

Castiel _still_ didn’t look up.

“ _What_ is so fascinating?!” he demanded.

“The process of metamorphosis is very disgusting.” The fact that Castiel said that with a tone of wonder made something like puzzlement or horror go down Crowley’s back. “Did you know that caterpillar autolyses within the chrysalis? It _digests_ itself, all but tiny little disks, and then is remade around them. It is, temporarily, just its own essence, and then it is something beautiful.”

“Are you giving me ideas for new tortures in Hell?” Crowley asked, genuinely curious.

“No.”

Well, that was too bad, because that sounded like a good one. Autolysis. Hm. He would have to use that. “Is that supposed to be some kind of a metaphor?”

“No.” Castiel lifted the caterpillar up to a tree trunk and made sure that its little flapping legs had a grip before he turned away. “Let’s go.” He strode past Crowley with his trench coat flapping dramatically behind him.

Little angel knew how to make an exit, Crowley would give him that. “Oh _brother_ ,” he muttered, reaching out to flick the little green worm off the tree.

“Kill it and I will smite you, Crowley.” Castiel said that over his shoulder with the kind of steady, brutal certainty that had, once, made Crowley very sure _which_ set of feathers was going to come out of the whole Naomi situation still flapping.

Crowley grinned. “ _That’s_ better.”

~fin~

June 10, 2020


End file.
